


Major Realisations

by orphan_account



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James observes Shepard/Kaidan through a number of events</p><p>*</p><p>~It’s not all that long, if the Lieutenant is honest, but for someone like Shepard to freeze up, James feels it’s like a lifetime, freezing up enough that he feels time has actually stopped for her to have this moment of vulnerability she doesn’t exhibit often, the moment of vulnerability he sees when it comes to Alenko~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Major Realisations

 

**I: Earth**

James honestly doesn’t realise it then, he doesn’t even  _think_  about it, because there’s absolutely nothing to think about, nothing of worth to ponder over, nothing to make it appear more than it actually is on the surface. He’s standing in the corridor, pristine, too white and perfect for everyone to help them ignore what’s going to happen very soon, talking to Shepard, saying how everything is ridiculous and that there’s simply no way the brass would hang her out to dry after all that she has accomplished, when the raspy voice carries itself across the air, cutting into his conversation like it readily belongs to the person he’s talking to, fitting in so elegantly like with a purpose, heedless of James’ half-words.

‘’Shepard.’'

‘’Kaidan.’’

 _Surprise? A touch of joy?_ James can’t pin it down at this point (you never can completely with someone like Shepard), but the Commander swings her head so fast in his direction like it’s an automatic reaction ingrained into her, apparently familiar with the man so well she makes a full one-eighty, and starts walking towards him, instantly forgetting that James is in the middle of a sentence, or more accurately, choosing to ignore said sentence in favour of the raspy voice instead, making him bitterly scowl to himself internally. _Nada_ , he’s not that annoyed at all, but he certainly thinks, _who’s this guy?_ And, _holy shit, is that Admiral Anderson?_ It is, and he fumbles about thinking whether to rush to salute in the presence of the Admiral, a little awe struck even, but no one seems to be giving him another glance, attention on the Lieutenant swapped to Shepard and the other two men, that James just moves off to the side, watching from near the wall like a hawk, taking in every detail from their closeness to their body language, now that he’s attained some semblance of sudden invisibility. The trio are standing tight, inches separating them, tensed bodies dressed neatly in Alliance uniforms with a flavour of complete professionalism, but somehow appearing comfortable with each other at the same time, like long lost friends seeing an old face scrubbed cloudy from memory.  
  
This new guy is apparently a Major, and he stares down at his boots when Anderson points it out Shepard, boots which are all polished, shiny, and clean;  _of course_ , James snorts, the perfect picture of a stuck up soldier at home within these similarly immaculate corridors. For the briefest of moments, the Major looks embarrassed, or upset, James can’t tell too well from his position, not knowing the man good enough to draw an accurate image in his mind, but then Shepard is saying she’s glad she bumped into him, slightly cautious and leaning into him just a fraction of a degree, though, enough to draw a little smile on the man’s face at least. They exchange these glances and wandering eyes so fast James thinks he imagines it, before Anderson whisks the Commander away to the big hall, his face strict and serious, but eyes carrying a level of affection for his protégé, walking away quickly for them to make their case. The Major’s eyes trail after Shepard, face pulled into sad nostalgia and mildly downcast as he watches, unmoving, like his body is entrenched and trying to fight not to run after her, that James’ resolve breaks where he’s standing, because now he simply has to know about the two of them. He walks over, making his movements as relaxed as possible, doesn’t want to seem like a nosy gossip, or overly jealous that Shepard had turned away from him so swiftly to pin her gaze on the Major, and he asks the question with what he very much hopes is with the most nonchalant tone.  
  
‘’I used to,’’ is the only reply.  
  
The guy barely spares James a glance, too preoccupied with a certain, retreating Commander to look at the face of the person asking him a question, and that’s twice in just around a minute that the Major is a factor in the attention span given to James, _or lack of_ , he grouses, _well_. He feels the beginnings of irritation creep up somewhere deep within him now, as much as he tried to temper it down before. The Major may have his gaze elsewhere, but James takes him in, using the short few seconds to let his eyes roam freely when no one’s looking at him; shoulders hunched over and chin angled down, grey in his hair standing out against the thick black at his temples, streaking above the ears and peppering other parts unevenly, the heavy eyebrows obscuring whatever his mournful eyes must be revealing. James stares out from his periphery, stares at a face looking aged beyond his years, body a little smaller and leaner than his own, but doesn’t put too much weight into it, because he doesn’t need to at this moment, not for a complete stranger.  
  
When the invasion starts, the Lieutenant is at the Major’s side again, taking note of how he dispatches their enemies with poise, chaotic blue swirl winding around his frame fiercely ( _a biotic, huh?_ ) while frantically tweaking frequencies and jabbing at his omni-tool to contact not just his own family apparently living around the region, but also Shepard and Anderson, his fear bubbling over his calm aura, and everything is too messy, making James’ head whirl with terror at the sky being blotted out with smoke and ships too vast, too spine chillingly unnatural, spelling out their end of days. The Lieutenant catches flashes of Anderson’s desperate ‘’Kaidan!’’ via the open communications, the Major yelling back just as loud for the Admiral and the Commander through all the broken static, jarring and voice breaking, and it’s all just fine and dandy that everyone is on a first name basis, making him feel more out of place than ever. James thinks it’s just people who know each other, must have been feeling the pull of separation with months on lockdown, because being placed under house arrest after having a hand in the deaths of countless hundreds of thousands has a way of doing things to friends.  
  
 _I used to._  
  
There’s nothing strange at all about the Major’s behaviour, or Shepard’s reaction.

 

  
  
**II: Mars**

  
  
Mars is strange, James figures that out pretty quick, doesn’t require a rolling carpet with neon flashing in the night time for him to get the message. He pushes down his instant dislike when the new guy talks about the sandstorm on Mars like he’s a fucking expert on sandstorms on Mars, that grating, all knowing voice which practically bursts with superiority and intellect, that  _voice_  of his. The Lieutenant wonders if the Major is sick, had caught a cold, but he doesn’t hear any rough inflections or catches in breath, which only proves this is how he normally sounds, helmet distorting his deep baritone even further to wrack up James’ nerves, irritated on principle and without any relevant reason he refuses to bother with. James wants to make a snarky comment on this, a cutting bite back, but all he gets to think again is that _Mars is strange_ , strange in ways which has nothing to do with the storm looming on the horizon threatening to drown them in an endless reddish tide of dust, but strange in ways of grounding moods and thumping one lines with no respect for rank whatsoever.  
  
It isn’t even the fact that Shepard and the Major work so smoothly together without words, taking turns with cryo rounds and explosive biotics when they combine to reave and charge, combining in ways James is incapable of grasping, their subtle glances through tinted visors when the other isn’t looking in their direction, running to offer cover when shields and barriers become dangerously low, putting their own self at consistent risk for the other. James wants to crack a joke about feeling left out, and he would have, except it’s actually true, so he can’t ease himself in with a clever jibe the way he’s good at, his eyes narrowing at them as he struggles to fathom. There is just too much  _tension_  between them, sparking and damaging, but still linked, pulling them to each other when one gets too far away in the field, causing a chain of actions where they place themselves in harm's way to make sure the other is safe, getting angry for doing so, before doing it all over again like the argument literally never happened. _Dios_ , it’s strange because there’re these little...  _exchanges_ , which James files away in his head for further reference if needed, carefully keeping a listening ear out to their alternating between angry spitting and resigned placating, voices running on the boon - _or bane_ , James hasn’t set his mind on it on yet - of a previous working relationship. Shepard’s clipped words - not ‘’Major,’’ or even ‘’Alenko,’’ but  _‘’Kaidan’’_  again, too many times a knowing ‘ _’Kaidan’_ ’ again and again -  about how this guy should know her better, regardless of everything, painful and hopeful ‘’Please, trust me’’ thrown out like it’s the most natural thing to do to a person who just joined their team. James almost half thinks he has become invisible, for real this time, when his supportive lines for Shepard aren’t addressed, the two soldiers seemingly blind, and deaf, apparently, to his existence, miles away in their own place, having heated discussions and gentle breathing out of each other’s names like a subconscious woven into their lungs and imprinted on the insides of their skin.  
  
The Lieutenant grounds his teeth to think again,  _what is going on?_ There’s no answer, and he doubts if he’ll ever get one now, but he’s sent away and James isn’t too happy about that, because for all he knows, and understands with what he has been given, it’s that this is his Commander Shepard as much as this new guy’s, and he wants to be there as much, too. But he’s given an order, and if there’s anything James is good at, it’s that he’s a loyal, Alliance marine, so he’s going to follow it, especially when it’s Shepard handing them out, phrases automatically carrying heavier meaning to him no matter what. There’s a little too much pleasure he derives from ramming the Kodiak into the Cerberus shuttle, staring out the glass panels to catch the Commander raise a hand to the Major getting off the red sand, her helmet turned in his direction until she knows he’s okay, and only turns away when the Major raises a hand back, shaking his head to rid himself of the unexpected blow. They’re still silently communicating, because James cannot hear anything from their shared radios, whole conversations being had without words that the Lieutenant is fully an outsider to.  
  
The next moments are a hazy blur, loud, banging noises and choked sounds sounding terrified to his ears, Shepard’s pinched voice yelling for the sentinel hoisted up in the air, the worst cries coming from him as his suit slowly gives way to the strength of the android using him like a cheap toy. James’ mind screams and he sees the Major dangling in the air, bursts of biotic blue flickering around his arms which he’s struggling to control and set himself free against the atmosphere seeping into his suit, kicking weakly but unable to free himself, because his brain is not getting enough oxygen to properly fire any mnemonics, helpless and in toil where there’re too many things happening in one instant. Alenko is convulsing as strong, synthetic fingers easily crush his helmet, before swinging to smash him repeatedly against the bulkhead, metallic clangs sounding sickening to James’ ears as he gapes at the figure being slammed headfirst, so hard he’s sure the skull is cracked and his spine possibly shattered even through his heavy armour. It’s _too fast_ , everything is happening so quick that he cannot get his bearings with the yelling heard inside his helmet, from the two soldiers so hard to distinguish, a mix of anguish and a mix of horrible, exploding agony, as Shepard unloads her pistol mercilessly, not missing a single shot, ringing through the head of the android charging at them as the Lieutenant finally fires his own rifle at the silver, slender body, charred black from hot fire. It drops heavily and James is quick on his feet the moment Shepard speaks, cold and precise, acknowledging the order to grab the android while the Commander never stops moving, legs running as fast as the armour on her body allows to the Major, who’s lying completely still on his back.  
  
‘’Kaidan? _Kaidan!_ ’’  The Lieutenant may have heard a minor hitch in that perpetually steely voice, where a gloved hand grazes the dented helmet and chest plate before grabbing him and settling him over strong, armoured shoulders, the Major carried so carefully that it instantly lets James know the man is still alive, and he feels a flood of relief at that, for Shepard more than for himself. In all the months James has known Shepard, he never once saw her freeze, not for any situation or any higher officer invoking a sharp barb at her, always ready with a comeback or knowing what must be done. But in the med-bay, this is another first for him, as he catches the Commander clamp up the sight of Alenko’s battered face, his eyes closed and blood streaking from his nose and mouth, completely unresponsive to anything anyone is saying. The asari chick has to push herself into Shepard’s line of sight not once, but twice, taking charge where Shepard momentarily falters like she doesn’t quite have a handle on this, big, blue eyes boring into the Commander to snap her out of a brief internal shutdown James glumly witnesses. Shepard’s body is looming over the downed comrade, which the Lieutenant is seriously starting to suspect isn’t just  _any_  downed comrade, her fingers twitching and barely caressing the scratched, blue armour on the Major, as if afraid to break him further if she put too much pressure on his body, face exuding worry as she continues to stare at olive skin way too pale to be healthy. It’s not all that long, if the Lieutenant is honest, but for someone like Shepard to freeze up, James feels it’s like a lifetime, freezing up enough that he feels time has actually stopped for her to have this moment of vulnerability she doesn’t exhibit often, the moment of vulnerability he sees when it comes to Alenko. A shaky palm curls over the Major’s shoulder, placed so lightly it’s barely touching, accompanied by a shaky voice, ‘’I’m- We’re gonna get you help, okay? Just… hang on,’’ the softest whispering James almost doesn’t catch, where dark eyes are locked onto the damaged face of the biotic, words meant just for Alenko and no one else despite them being in the vicinity, too. It’s the rawest emotion from Shepard James ever has the privilege of tripping on, something so muted and mellow, that he instantly knows he will never forget this moment, blasting through all the other moments he has spent watching over her.  
  
And then, Shepard is gone just like that, vanishes like she was never there to take the call from Hackett after ordering for maximum speed to the Citadel in a flat tone, that moment almost like a dream in James’ mind that never truly happened, because the contrast is so clashing, the Commander’s face blank once she turns away from the Major. They’re running again, just like they had run from Earth, unable to do a single thing, so out of their depth against their enemy.  _Reapers,_ James curses, because he’s getting so sick of those fuckers, getting sick of Cerberus, getting sick of seeing this mysterious Alenko have an indescribable effect on his usually unshakable Commander, because it’s a window into the person he hasn’t gotten to know in months, being provided by this man in a mere matter of hours that forces the Lieutenant to question how much he really knows of her.

 

  
  
**III: Huerta Memorial**

  
  
If James thinks it’s weird (and secretly badass) that Shepard keeps the Council waiting just so she can visit the ICU, he doesn’t mention it to anyone, even if he privately cannot stop grinning about it, finding it acceptable to laugh about something like this in such grim times. The asari chick –  _Liara_ , he remembers – had gone on ahead, but the Commander simply decided that the Council isn’t as important as... the new guy. The Lieutenant is still unable to wrap his head around Alenko, still reeling from the after effects of their mission, even though it quickly becomes obvious to him from Mars that if anyone is the  _new guy_ around these parts, it’s James, more than anything. Shepard, Alenko, Liara; these three were in the fight on the frontier from the very start, and they know more than he possibly does, that it’s James who has broken into their world to stand up and help, undoubtedly the new guy to all three of them. Later, after Shepard had dealt with the Council and gotten new orders, the Lieutenant drops by the ICU, taking a couple of seconds to stare through the spotless, transparent glass, into the room where the artificial sunlight of the Presidium is streaming in, brightness doing nothing to offset the bleak atmosphere inside. Shepard is there again, just like James knew she would be, sitting close to the bed, her head resting on hands clasped together tightly on the mattress, almost looking like she’s praying if she were into that sort of thing, clasped hands which just  _oh so faintly_  brushes the stationary fingers of the patient, enough for the Lieutenant to interpret it’s anything but accidental.  
  
Shepard raises herself up as James steps into the room, giving him a tired smile which looks so obviously fake he doesn’t want it, might as well not be a smile at all, the Commander’s hands unclasping immediately to move and rub damp palms on her trousers. James nods to her once, then turns his gaze to the Major, so sickly and almost dead, the monitors beeping softly to take note of his struggling, wheezing breaths. Alenko looks like shit; bones around his shoulders all wrong and out of place, sticking out through clammy skin, bruises which have morphed to varying colours over his face, yellowing and purpling in ways that the Lieutenant has to wonder if it will ever heal back properly, his chest barely rising under the thin sheets flung over his body, appearing like a man who’s set to be passed from the living realm onto the next in a matter of seconds. James eyes the Commander again, whose expression is masked now that he’s here in the room with her, gone back to staring at the face of Alenko, the face which might not awake to look at her like he knows Shepard the way no one else does, through all the flares and snipping remarks. The Lieutenant clears his throat, speaking quietly so it doesn’t sound like his voice is stabbing his morose CO, ‘’That bad, huh?’’  
  
Silence, for the longest time that James thinks his whispering is inside his own head, until he realises it’s another one of those frozen phases he’s witnessing of Shepard, who continues to stare at Alenko like she’s trying not to forget him, frozen phases choosing to happen a lot where the Major is concerned, but James has already noted that. There is a minor twitch in the Commander’s leg before she mumbles back, ‘’Yeah, it’s-‘’ voice so hoarse like she hasn’t said a single word in hours, sandpaper scraping on skin, finally swallows and pretends to cough into a closed fist that James would never draw attention on, ‘’It’s pretty bad.’’ She doesn’t look at him at all while talking, because even from the corner where he’s standing, the Lieutenant can see the suspiciously shiny eyes of his Commander, fake sunlight hitting the dark brown at just the right angle for him to pick out the shimmer, and he wrenches his gaze away from her, refuses to stare at Shepard any longer than necessary while she’s like this, so different from the invincible soldier he sees blazing through the field. James acts like he doesn’t see the tears held in her eyes, steps out of the room first and acts like he doesn’t see Shepard through the glass bending over to press tender lips lightly onto the Major’s forehead, decent enough he acts like he doesn’t see her whisper something in Alenko’s ear while fingers gently caress his jaw, before striding out of the room without a backward glance, because they have a Primarch to rescue, and the mission always comes first.

 

 

  
**IV: Huerta Memorial Part 2**

  
  
A Primarch they  _don’t_  rescue, certainly not the same Primarch, anyway, but the emotions aboard the _Normandy_ are... not as heavy as before, and James thinks at first it’s because of the new turian with an obsession with guns, hanging out at the batteries and immediately running diagnostics like he knows the schematics exactly, but it quickly becomes apparent why Shepard appears happier the next time they dock at the Citadel; the Major is awake, though it’s framed as a multitude of other reasons unrelated to the said individual. James doesn’t go to see Alenko, they aren’t exactly  _friends_ now, choosing instead to beat about at Purgatory, to drink and watch flexible dancers over the rim of a glass as colours sparkles around him to make his head whirl delightfully. It’s his usual walking around the wards that the Lieutenant stumbles onto, of all things, tabloid relating to Shepard, big and fully capitalised, tabloid running lines across multiple publishers for something that’s allegedly _so_  juicy and scandalous. He catches glimpses of the articles on little screens of people’s datapads, large print of the titles easily seen as aliens in particular huddle around to read tacked on cheesy headlines, muttering to themselves, so thrilled at being given a piece of information that probably isn’t even true.  
  
 _‘’WHO IS KAIDEN ALENKO?’’_  
  
 _‘’THE MAJOR OF COMMANDER SHEPARD’S HEART’’_  
  
James is only human, so, of course he eagerly goes onto the extranet to read the few which have cropped up, telling himself it’s just for a bit of fun, no real harm done because he knows it’s just a bunch of silly articles with no serious value to anyone of significance. They even included a picture of Shepard sitting inside the ICU, taken from an odd, skewed angle from outside the room to capture her blurry frame, but there’s no question about the subject matter itself; the Commander slouched on a chair, one hand wrapped around the wrist of an unconscious Alenko from their first visit, while the other is supporting her head in a palm, face not visible to sneaky cameras. If the picture isn’t dramatic enough, the caption under it elevates it sky high, with words like ‘ _’breaking down’’_ , ‘ _’falls apart’’_ , and ‘ _’broken heart’_ ’ being the star players, invoking a whole image of a torrential love affair and a disturbed Commander being too unstable over some fellow officer to be counted on to save the galaxy, making Shepard sound like a half-goner. The articles are not pleasant in the least, amateur journalism digging harshly into the Major’s background, bringing up issues of his and Shepard’s service together on the original _Normandy_ , of a certain Chief Williams, and of Virmire, drawing clumsy connections in terribly snide tones, and it has so much flair, weaving what they know will get eaten up by the public gleefully. The implications are thinly veiled, written in an accusing manner as subtext and supposed ‘’inside sources’’ take a forefront over actual facts, implied, sinful fraternisations from prying eyes draped in flowery language, calling both of them out for haphazard and dangerous behaviour, too unreliable to be ranked officials.  
  
To say that Shepard became _fucking pissed_ when she had found out, is an understatement, her face shifting to be near murderous, chirpy mood replaced by heavy thunder ready to rip through anyone who dare say something like that to her face, questioning her command, or worse, questioning Alenko’s qualifications. James doesn’t tell her on his own, because Steve tells him to keep his mouth shut when the Lieutenant excitedly informs him, and he doesn’t know how the Commander even stumbled onto them, but she did somehow, anyway, her own sources, whatever they are, never letting something as hysterical as this slide by unknown to her. Shepard storms into Huerta and the Lieutenant follows, not at all looking forward to the commotion he’s sure is going to happen, but he enjoys looking big and intimidating by his CO’s side, because if he’s not towering over smaller salarians and asari, he’s almost always bigger in width, strong body flexing beside the Commander’s lanky one. Shepard barks lowly at the receptionist wide eyed behind the counter, demanding of the poor woman on how the picture had even been taken with all the various security systems in place to detect omni-tool flashes, the Commander growling at her how any staff could miss something massive like this, maybe turning a blind eye in response for some casual exchange of credits by shady hands. Shepard isn’t exactly making a huge scene, her voice soft yet biting and dangerous, but the air ripples with anger around her, tearing at the seams as she vibrates with fury, looking ready to unleash a punch to the next unsuspecting person telling her to calm down with the most condescending tone. James watches in complete silence, his CO getting more and more agitated that he thinks about speaking up, but then a drell walks up to her, appearing so mysteriously out of thin air like he hadn’t existed a moment ago, ‘’ _Siha_ , if you please,’’ voice so smooth and harmonic, that causes Shepard to whip her head around in his direction, her expression immediately slipping to something more neutral at the sight of the alien blinking icy, round eyes back at her, like polished marble. It’s another one of those moments where Shepard shakes her head and her feet carries herself away from James, the drell’s serene aura gradually infecting Shepard’s, so mild and low-key, saying he’d look into the matter, and the Commander deflates visibly, trudging away with her friend to a far corner to speak with him quietly without the big marine, leaving James staring at the duo, his CO slightly hunched, muttering fast and jerking her hands about, while the drell stands up straight, his arms comfortably folded behind his back, unwavering attention fixed on her, soothing and tranquil as he listens in patience.  
  
They’re finally walking back to the docking bay, and Shepard is still snarling to no one in particular about how the whole incident is a complete invasion of _Kaidan’s_  privacy, probing into his background so messily like that, bringing up his classified pre-Alliance past - so classified that the articles mentioned how Alenko practically didn’t exist before the age of 22, that it was impossible for them to get any information of his youth, which makes James curious, but he’s smart enough to know not to ask Shepard about it - insinuating sordid relationships in regards to his speedy promotions over a mere couple of years. The Lieutenant has zero comment on the situation, keeping his mouth shut as they walk along, just listening to the Commander rambling away to the air like an aside, following half a step behind her and looking threateningly at anyone who does a double take at an oblivious Shepard, who catch his glaring and hurriedly turn away to be on their way. ‘’Couldn’t even spell his name right,’’ is the last thing Shepard angrily says once they board the _Normandy_ , before marching off to where Liara is settled in, continuing to swear colourfully under her breath about this and that, causing the lingering crew to give her wide berth while she stalks, fuming.  
  
A few hours later, the Lieutenant cannot find a single article on the extranet anymore, all of them mystifyingly missing, from across all publishers and platforms, that one picture of Shepard deleted from any site that linked back to it. _Huh_ , James scratches his head, because it’s his only viable thought on the matter.

 

 

  
**V: Normandy**

  
  
Alenko is on board the ship, and James can’t fucking believe it, his mind too bleary and unconvinced because just a while ago, the Major and Shepard were pointing their guns at each other, eyes hard and unrelenting, a step shy of actually pressing their triggers, until Alenko backed down. The Lieutenant huffs again for the countless time, _who the hell is this guy?_ That has the Commander wrapped around the palm of his hand, so inscrutable that even the scenarios James imagines doesn’t seem to be able to do the pair justice, everything baffling him. James is angry, wants to punch something, has so many questions and reservations zooming around his skull, but the people who worked with Alenko before do not seem disturbed in the slightest, easily accepting him into their ranks like he wasn’t staring Shepard down the barrel of his pistol earlier. The Lieutenant throws away his uneasiness about the whole issue, because if Scars says the Major is a...  _friendly gun_ , then the Major is a friendly gun, their faith in his loyalty absolute. James likes Scars, so he’d take his word on Alenko, but more importantly, James likes _Shepard_ , and if Shepard doesn’t have a problem with the Major, then neither would the Lieutenant, accepting their judgement, since, James shakes his head, _the fuck do I know, anyway?_  
  
He walks into the starboard observation lounge late one night cycle, and freezes when he sees two dark heads of hair peeking out from the sofa, instantly knowing who the black tufts belong to even in the dullness of the lighting turned down way too low to be the norm. Shepard and Alenko are slouched low in their seats, heads resting back on the soft cushion and sitting near, but not near enough at the same time, making intimate conversation with too few words as they stare out into the vast blackness of space and stars in front of them, like they didn’t need anything else but each other’s company. If either of them had heard James walk in, they give no indication, and the Lieutenant is sure they know someone is standing behind them, hovering, undecided about what to do as they continue to ignore the intruder in favour of their unintelligible speech broken with slurring that only the two of them get. Their shoulders are leaning towards each other, a sliver of gap inbetween the Alliance fatigues, _only just_ , to ensure they aren’t touching, but James thinks some part of them is connected as he fumbles at the doorway, wondering if they’re holding hands on the couch, fingers intertwining around one other. _Probably? Get out, Vega_ , he hears himself screaming, as much as he wants to troop in a little more to peek, but he listens to his head and turns to walk back out, because this isn’t his business.

The Lieutenant loses track of time, doesn’t know how long he has been sitting in the mess hall alone, nursing his beer which is no more chilled than he started it, when he hears soft footsteps coming around the bend, from the place he hastily vacated sometime earlier. James sees Shepard first, one arm looped around Alenko’s waist, half dragging and half carrying him to the med-bay, their knees knocking and her trying not to get their feet trip on each other to go crashing to the deck, which probably wouldn’t be good for the Major’s head. Alenko’s face is tightly scrunched up, a fine sheen of sweat glistening off his forehead and neck as the Normandy’s light reflected off, the top strap of his collar unbuckled where the skin appears shiny as well. His eyes are clamped shut and one hand rubs his temple insistently, fingers pressing in hard, trying to dig a hole through his skull to scratch his brains out, making soft noises with each, slow step that causes James’ heart to ache a little at the poor sight. The Commander throws a glance James’ way, gives him a silent nod in acknowledgement, before carrying on into the med-bay, depositing Alenko on the nearest bed, full attention on her Major. James watches through the glass windows dully as Doctor Chakwas administers something to Alenko’s arm without fanfare, turning to mumble to Shepard and indicating one of the other beds beside him, possibly letting her know she can stay if she wanted to. The Commander hovers over Alenko, hands gripping onto the sides of the mattress as the stern eyes of Chakwas bore into her, but Shepard simply shakes her head, mouth moving to answer something in response, jerking her thumb back out before walking away, like she cannot juggle all her feelings at the moment. Shepard grabs her own drink and slides into the seat opposite James, looking happy, tired, and worried all at once, the Lieutenant still unable to tell completely with someone like her, emotions kept too close to her heart instead of on display.  
  
The two sit like this, leaning back, only the gentle whir of the ship’s air recycling system ticking in the background, the only sound to imply any sort of passage of time, until a hesitant open, ‘’They aren’t… really this bad,’’ Shepard speaks, and James stills, because he wasn’t expecting a conversation when she sat down, his eyes slipping to the bottle she’s holding, half empty and apparently signalling her willingness to talk, ‘’His migraines, I mean. They’ve gotten worse after... you know, Mars.’’ Shepard doesn’t look at him, opting to stare at the table, frowning at it and at her hands, and James wants to reply that Mars is something he probably wouldn’t forget, because it was his first, actual cryptic look into the pair, that gave him pause and sparked his puzzling over them. ‘’Oh…,’’ is what he eventually ends up saying, throat clenching onto itself because _oh_ is the only thing he can say out loud, but it seems enough for Shepard, though, who’s looking distracted, and it’s enough for her to continue, ‘’He was telling me about his implant, got real messed up,’’ and the Lieutenant briefly wonders if this is when he walked in on them, or something which happened earlier, although he doesn’t react again, since it’s obvious to him his job is to listen right now, to provide a comforting ear for someone else to meander aimlessly at him, almost lost, ‘’I don’t even know now if he’s gonna get poorer down the line, or how long his brain can handle all these until he just di-’’  
  
Shepard breaks off to take a long swig from her bottle, words burning up on her tongue as her fears seep out into the open, of fragmenting sanity and damaged implants, that James can just about see her hands faintly trembling with the alcohol in her system, hands that are not as steady as they used to be, from a long time ago when James first knew her, a time when he didn’t know a particular Major in her life. But now he does, and the Lieutenant sees Shepard trailing off in the middle of sentences, getting locked up during tensed situations, all only when this Major Alenko is involved, this particular man tunnelling into her, getting her shaken up plenty, that now James thinks he understands, cocking his head a little as he gazes back into her preoccupied face, hushed voice directed at her, ‘’Okay, Shepard.’’ There’s nothing he can give, nothing he can do to make the situation better, and they both know it, no more talking after this, not like they were talking much before, either. But it’s not an awkward silence, sitting there drinking, the bond James shares with his CO built up from months of knowing each other, talking and throwing jabs, fighting alongside each other comfortably, although in his heart, the Lieutenant has already long since realised that whatever months he has shaped with Shepard, it’s nothing compared to the time Alenko has shaped with his Commander. Shepard gets up after some time, clapping a hand on James’ thick bicep, a muted thanks for his presence, before attempting, and failing, to walk in a straight line to the elevator. A gentle glance from her is shot through the windows to where the Major is passed out, and then she’s gone, disappearing to go to her cabin. It has taken James a lengthier than necessary time for him to come to it, to wrap his head around the two of them, but hanging out with them is enough for the pieces to fall into place neatly in his mind, stacking them up in one big pile for him to finally be able to put an accurate label on them, no matter how complicated it might appear to be.

 

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End file.
